PushPull
by LowkeyLyesmiths
Summary: After an argument with Tino Berwald lets a fight with Denmark go too far with disastrous consequences. DenSu&SuFin. Dubcon
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **So I'm taking a break from torturing Russia to torture the Nordics. WOO. This is my first time writing any of them so forgive me (and do point it out) if they're a little OOC. Except Sweden because, well he needed to be a smidge OOC in this chapter.

I have no idea where this is going or whether it's any good so please, please, please drop me a review?

**This is an edited version, to read the full version (which is only a smidge more graphic than this) hop on over to Ao3 (I'm CallicoKitten over there)**

* * *

**Push ✖ Matchbox Twenty**  
_i don't know if i've ever been good enough_  
_i'm a little bit rusty, and i think my head is caving in_  
_i don't know if i've ever been really loved_  
_by a hand that's touched me, and i feel like something's gonna give_  
_and i'm a little bit angry._

* * *

"_Fine_," Berwald spits. "'ll sleep on t' couch!"

He has to leave before he says something he regrets.

Tino glares at him from his position on the bed. "_Great_, Berwald. Just avoid everything. Fucking _great._"

They've been arguing for days, weeks, months, over _everything._ Big things, little things, everything. Berwald's glad they left Peter at home with a neighbour (though he's fairly sure he'll find his way to World Conference at some point) The Fin throws a pillow at him and rolls to face the wall. "Turn the lights off when you leave." He mutters.

Berwald slams out of the bedroom and into the small living room-kitchen area, throwing the pillow down onto the couch with such force that it bounces right off again. _Stupid fucking thing. _

He's seething- no- he's fucking _besieged _with rage. This should not be happening. He and Tino are supposed to be the exception. Their official union has broken down but they're supposed to be together. It's a fucking _fact. _They were better than the others, more suited, _perfect._ This wasn't supposed to _happen. _

It takes him a few minutes to register the insistent knocking at the hotel door. He takes a deep breath (wipes the few angry tears from his eyes) before answering, expression stoic as usual. He's expecting Peter or maybe Iceland but instead he finds an exhausted looking Germany.

"Ja? Wh't is it?"

"Do you think you could possibly come and remove Denmark from the bar?"

Berwald blinks, "Can't ya ask Norway. Or Iceland."

"Tried them, they both slammed their doors in my face."

Berwald really doesn't want to deal with Denmark right now. Especially a drunk Denmark. He doesn't think he'll be able to resist the urge to punch him. He sighs tiredly, "C'n't he j'st sleep on th' floor?"

Germany looks almost amused. "Usually it would not be a problem, unfortunately he and England are being very loud and it's beginning to cause problems."

"So what? They're alw'ys loud."

"It's not the noise that's the problem, _Berwald_." Germany says pointedly.

Oh. _Oh_. That kind of problem. This hotel obviously isn't aware of what the Nations are. Berwald pinches the bridge of his nose. He really doesn't need this tonight. "Ja, fine. I will f'tch 'im."

Germany nods, "Danke. I need to go and fetch France to deal with England. I tried America first but he just took pictures and left giggling. Idiot."

Berwald hums in agreement, grabs the hotel keys and slams the door so Tino will know he's left. Germany continues up the corridor and Berwald watches him for a few seconds before heading down to the bar. _Just grab him and dump him in his room, that's all you have to do. Ignore anything he says. Just do it and leave. _When he reaches the small bar he finds it empty but for England, Prussia and Denmark. England is singing, Prussia has apparently passed out and the Dane is cackling and cheering England out. The bar staff are glaring (one is sharpening a knife and Berwald has half a mind to leave and wake up to the news of a triple stabbing)

He crosses the room and yanks Denmark off his stool to his feet, "C'me on, Mathias." He mutters.

Denmark sways for a few minutes before he grins widely, "Sverige!" He booms, "Come to join us?" England glances over and cheers and Denmark laughs again.

Berwald shoots what he hopes passes for an apologetic look at the bar staff before tightening his grip on Denmark's arm. "_Nej. _Time t' leave."

"Awh but Berwald! We're just gettin' started here!" The Dane slurs. "Right guys?"

"_Mathias_," Berwald growls. "We're leavin'. _Now._"

"Such a spoilsport," Denmark mutters. "_Fine._ I can-I can do it myself!" he shoves Berwald away and without the support stumbles a few paces before collapsing in a fit of giggles. "Rooms spinnin', Ber. _Spinnin'."_

With a huff of annoyance Berwald bends and pulls Denmark up roughly before bodily dragging him from the room. "Hey!" Denmark protests weakly. "_Hey_! Lemme go, Ber! Lemme go!"

It takes him almost twenty minutes to get to Denmark's room by which time Berwald is ready to borrow the bartender's knife. Denmark is loud, he's always been loud. He shouts for Berwald to let him go, tells Berwald he's the big brother and that he should listen to him (it sets off a chain of memories of Denmark yelling, bullying, beating, maiming, of wars and massacres and failed unions).

He hauls the Dane in to his room and throws him down on the bed.

"Sh't up, _Dan_." He spits, turning to go but Denmark grabs his sleeve and tugs.

"Why'd ya always leave me, Sverige? What'd I ever do to deserve this?" Denmark's voice is shaky and _fuck_ Berwald doesn't want to deal with this today.

He yanks himself free with a growl, "Could write ya a list, Dan."

He turns but Denmark grabs him again, this time wrapping his arms around Berwald's midsection and pressing his face into Berwald's back. "No, don't, please stay, Berwald." Denmark says and the words run together like a flood. "Miss ya, miss ya so much."

Berwald clenches his fist. "Let go, Mathias."

Denmark's grip tightens, "Nej, nej det vil jeg ikke. I don't deserve this Ber, I treated you well. I was _good _to you and Fin." His breath hitches. "What does _he _have that I don't?"

The anger is thrumming through him now, hot and coursing through his veins. "'M warning you, Dan. Let go."

"Say you'll stay," Denmark sobs. "Say you'll come back. I need you. I know you need me. You'll always need me! You're mine, you're all _mine._"

"L'st w'rning," Berwald mutters because if he snaps he's not sure what he'll do but it won't be good. He won't be able to control it. "Let. Me. _Go._"

Denmark giggles high pitched (it reminds Berwald far too much of their Viking days, of he and Denmark storming countries and spattered in blood) "Not this time, Ber." He whispers, face pressed into Berwald's back.

Berwald draws his elbow back sharply, it connects with Denmark's head soundly and the country lets go with a pained yelp. Berwald spins to face him, Denmark's nose is bloody and he's blinking up at Berwald looking honestly bewildered.

Berwald grins.

It feels good to see Denmark like that.

He stomps down that thought as soon as it arises, turns away and this time makes it to the door before he's tackled by Denmark. He twists as he falls, flipping them over so he's pining the Dane beneath him, he raises his fist and just about manages to catch himself. "t' _fuck, _Dan?" he spits.

"You hit me!" the Dane slurs. "Shouldn't do that Sve!"

There's a flash of rage and Berwald finds himself on top of Denmark, kicking and hitting and tugging. "_Fuck you_!" he's screaming but he's not even sure at this point if he's angry at Denmark (he's _always _angry at Denmark though) or Finland or maybe just everyone and every_thing_and he can't stop. (Not that he wants to) To his credit, Denmark gives as good as he's given. He kicks and _bites_ and swears like a school aged kid who's just learnt the words and it feels so damn _good._

He's not sure when exactly he makes the decision to manhandle the other nation on to the bed and roughly tear his clothes off. All he does know is Denmark is just as hard as he is and maybe this is what they've needed for years. Maybe it's just because Berwald _needs _to destroy _something _and Denmark just needs _something_. (Berwald isn't blind, he knows how much the Dane drinks and he's noticed the lack of mirrors in his house, he remembers Iceland telling them how Denmark cried at night after they left. He knows his brother hates himself and sometimes he thinks he should do something about it but mostly he doesn't.)

"Ugh- Sve...don't- _please- _stop," Denmark moans-whimpers-mewls.

It registers somewhere in the back of Berwald's head that he doesn't know whether Denmark is begging him to stop or begging him _not _to stop. It registers somewhere that he doesn't much care because all he wants is to _break _something.

* * *

It's only after, when he hefts himself up and he's breathless, the he realises what he's just done, it hits him like a cold sweat. There's blood on the sheets and Denmark is small and pale and trembling and ravished on the bed. _Fuck. _Denmark blinks up at him hazily, Berwald can practically smell the alcohol from here (amongst the sweat and _other things_) Denmark is so drunk he can't possible know what..._fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He yanks the Dane up roughly, a hastily constructed plan coming together in his head, and forces him into the bathroom. "What're ya doin', Sve?" Denmark slurs.

"G'tta g't ya clean," he murmers, leaning in to turn on the shower.

Denmark giggles then sways, paling instantly. "Gonna be sick," he mumbles, barely making it to the toilet before he wretches. When he's done he slips limply sideways and Berwald just manages to catch him before he hits the cold tile floor.

He is _definitely _too drunk to have consented.

_Shit. _

He manhandles the Dane into the shower and holds him up, at an arm's length, under the warm spray. He tries to avoid looking at the dot-to-dot bruises on his hips and wrists and the bite marks on his shoulder blades.

When he pulls Denmark out he slumps against him and mumbles nonsensically against his shoulder as Berwald dries both of them as best he can. Once he's done he leads him into the bedroom and pushes him towards his bed.

"D'nmark, where'd d'ya keep your pyjamas?" he asks, beginning to rummage through the Dane's speedily unpacked suitcase.

Denmark slurs something that might have been Danish or Swedish or English or a hybrid of the three for all the good it does.

"Mathias!" he snaps (and it's not anger now it's panic- it's guilt- it's concern)

Denmark raises his head, just. "Bottom drawer." He mumbles, rolling on his side and watching Berwald with unfocused blue eyes. "Whatcha doin', Ber?"

"F'ndin' ya clothes." He pulls out a t-shirt and the only pair of pyjama bottoms that don't have the Danish flag on them and throws them at Denmark who giggles as they hit him.

"Stop throwin' things!"

_Shit, _Berwald is so _fucked._

"G't dressed, Dan." He says, bending to pick up his jeans.

Denmark does, clumsily and once he's done he looks up at Berwald. He yawns and Berwald glances at him. "Go t' sleep." He murmers, pulling on his shirt.

Maybe Denmark won't remember in the morning (Berwald's not sure if that's any _better _because waking up bruised and in pain probably isn't the most comforting thing after a night out). Once he's dressed he straightens and looks over at Denmark, curled up on the bed, blinking sleepily.

"Stay," he mumbles needily and it's the right thing to do (Denmark is _really _drunk and just because he's never heard of a Nation choking to death on his own vomit doesn't mean it can't happen) but he _can't_. He needs Tino. He needs to be _near _Tino.

"Night, Dan." He mumbles as he pushes out of Denmark's room, he thinks he hears a sleepy protest but he doesn't pause to listen.

* * *

When he gets back to his hotel room he's barely holding himself together. He cracks the door to the bedroom open slowly and when there's no response he sneaks in and curls up, fully clothed, on top of the covers.

Tino is bright and soft and beautiful in his sleep (well, always but in his sleep he's so _relaxed_) Berwald wants nothing more than to drown in him and forget about _what just happened _with Denmark but he doesn't want to wake him. How can he? He settles for gently brushing the sleeping Finn's hair back and placing a chaste kiss on his forehead (he can still taste Denmark, can still hear, feel, smell, Denmark)

He closes his eyes tightly and wishes for oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hey, sorry it's been a while. Thanks for the feedback. Unbeta'd and enjoy!

Oh and Norway is Erik and Iceland will be Emil :) This is my first time writing the Nordic 5 so sorry if they're awfully OOC!

* * *

When Berwald wakes up it takes him a few minutes to remember why his mouth tastes like stale beer.

At some point during the night Tino must have tugged off his shoes and jeans and tucked him in. He yawns and stretches, arching into the cold sheets. _The conference starts today. _He groans, rolls over and buries his face deep in the pillow, wondering whether he can come up with a good enough excuse to not turn up to the meeting and stay in bed all day. Or maybe for the rest of his life. Either would do.

The stale taste in his mouth almost makes him gag and all he can think about Denmark. _Fuck _Denmark.

What if Denmark remembers? What if he's angry? Or hurt? What if he tells someone?

What if he tells Tino?

He should probably check on him.

His train of thought is derailed by the sound of the door opening and someone padding across the room. "You're finally awake," Tino says softly.

Berwald rolls to face him. He's hovering by the door, hair still sleep-mussed. Berwald's whole body _aches _for him. "'M sorry, Fin." He murmers.

Tino smiles apologetically, "Don't be, Su-San. It was my fault." He crosses the room and sits down on the bed, carding a hand through Berwald's hair. Berwald hums and leans in to the touch.

"Wasn't just your fault," he mumbles.

"It was both our faults then," Tino says, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry all the same."

Berwald sits up and curls around the Finn's body (tries hard not to compare it to the way Denmark felt writhing beneath him) "Me too." He mumbles in to Tino's neck.

Tino sighs contently. "We need to go down to breakfast." He says eventually.

Berwald groans, "D'we 'ave to?"

Tino chuckles, "Yes, the others are waiting. Now get up, lazy bones."

Berwald sighs and heaves himself up. "Heard from Den?" he asks gruffly.

Tino glances up from where he's buttoning up his shirt, "Nope. Why? Was he okay last night?"

"Ya, fine." Berwald mumbles.

When they get down to breakfast Norway and Iceland are already waiting for them, eating silently with identical blank expressions. They turn when he and Tino make their way across the room.

"Heard you had to babysit Denmark last night," Norway remarks blandly as they sit down.

Iceland sniggers, "How much of an arse did he make of himself this time?"

Berwald keeps his expression carefully neutral, "'e wasn't that bad." He mutters. Tino pats his arm.

"Have you two made up then?" Norway asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Tino smiles, pulling pouring himself some coffee.

_For now anyway, _Berwald thinks. He glances around the crowded room. Prussia is bothering the Italy brother's and a very irate looking Germany and England is slumped over a table groaning occasionally as America laughs and France babies him. He doesn't see Denmark anywhere. He swallows nervously; maybe he should go up and check on the other country. Or send someone else.

As though reading his mind Norway sighs, "I suppose someone should go and check if that oaf is alive then."

"Not me," Iceland says with a grin and Tino becomes suddenly fascinated with the selection of jams on their table.

"I did it l'st night," Berwald mumbles. He probably should be the one checking but he _can't._ What if Denmark freaks out as soon as he sees him?

Norway glowers at them. "_Fine,"_ he spits, pushing away from the table gracefully and stalking out of the room.

Berwald bites his lip.

This is going to be _awful._

* * *

There are many things on this planet that annoy Erik, loud people, ignorant people, overly cheerful people. People who smell like coffee or beer or smoke. People who tell him to smile more often. People who ride bikes frigging _everywhere. _People who try to touch him. People who try to touch his baby brother. People who intrude on or interrupt his daily activities. Especially his breakfast.

Unfortunately for both of them Mathias falls into all of these categories so when he gets up to the blonde git's room he has no sympathy whatsoever. (Not that he ever has any sympathy for the Dane because honestly, if you spend all your life drinking you're practically begging for hangover's) He pounds on the door, "Mathias, you better be up." He snarls.

He thinks he hears a pathetic whine from beyond the door so, sighing heavily, he pulls out the key he picked up from reception and unlocks the door. The room is a _mess_ (even by the Dane's standards.) Denmark's clothes are strewn about the place and there are scuff marks on the carpet and little drip-drop stains in some places that look disturbingly like blood.

"Denmark?" he calls sharply (tries to hide the concern, he's probably just gotten himself into a fight again)

(But wouldn't Sweden have mentioned that?)

"Norge?" the faint call comes from the bathroom.

He crosses the room as quickly as possible and nudges the bathroom door open. "Den?"

Denmark is standing shirtless in front of the mirror. His torso is a patchwork of bruises and things resemble _bite marks; _he's trembling and Norway notices the finger-shaped marks on his hips with a jolt, "_What the hell?_"

Denmark turns to him, eyes wider than usual. "I don't know," he whispers, half-desperately. "I don't remember what happened..."

"Shit," Erik mutters. "_Shit_."

So maybe he cares a little bit.

_Shit though. _Sweden would have mentioned if Denmark had been roughed up, did that mean this happened after Sweden had left? He'd have to call hotel security. Maybe even warn the other Nations; Germany had said Denmark was about to blow their cover hadn't he? What if someone knew what they were? What if that's why they'd attacked Denmark?

"Mathias," he says quietly. "Mathias, you need to calm down and tell me what you remember."

Denmark takes a few deep breaths, "I don't- I was out with Gilbert and Arthur...We were drinking and then...I don't know, Norge," he breaks off with a whimper. "It all kind of gets fuzzy after that."

Erik exhales slowly. This isn't looking good.

"Okay, do you remember Sweden coming to get you?"

At the mention of Sweden something flickers across Denmark's expression. "Sverige?" he murmers. "I think...maybe?"

_Damn. _That definitely means someone got to him after Sweden left. He's going to need to tell everyone. Shit.

But first he needs to sort Denmark out.

"Okay, Mathias, it's going to be okay," he says as warmly as he can. He approaches Denmark slowly, holds his hands out to let him know his intentions. Denmark still flinches away when he touches his shoulder. "Come on," he says soothingly. "We need to get you dressed."

Denmark nods slowly and allows himself to be led out into the main room. He gently pushes Denmark down to sit on the bed. "You don't remember anything?" he asks again, eyeing the bruises on the Dane's pale flesh. This is wrong. Denmark isn't supposed to be like this. An icy, sick anger is building in his chest, whoever did this is going to pay.

"N-no, not much," Denmark's teeth are chattering slightly. It isn't cold in the room.

Erik pulls out a shirt that looks clean and hands it to Denmark, "We need to tell the others." He murmers.

"_No_!" Mathias yelps almost immediately. "P-Please, Erik. Don't tell the others."

"We need to," Erik repeats. "Whoever did this to you could do it to someone else." He turns to cross the room to retrieve his mobile, intending to phone Iceland or Sweden or someone, but Denmark catches him by the sleeve, gripping so tight the Dane's knuckles are white.

"Erik, _please_."

Erik's eyes widen a fraction. He's always prided himself on his ability to read the Dane, even his tiniest movements and facial expressions don't go undetected. "You know who did this, don't you? You actually _know _the monster that did this to you?"

Denmark doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

"Who was it, Mathias?" Erik asks quietly, his voice shaking with anger. Whoever did this is going to _pay._

The Dane shakes his head mutely.

"Mathias, _please. _Was it another Nation?"

The something flickers across Mathias' face again.

"It was, wasn't it?" Erik bends down slightly so he's at eye level with Denmark. "Who was it, Mathias? You can tell me."

Denmark looked away. Erik had never seen Mathias scared, not ever. Not when they'd all left him after the end of the Kalmar Union, not when they were Vikings fighting wars every other day, not when the Nazi's kicked in his door. This was so _wrong._

"Was it Gilbert?" he asks quietly.

Denmark snorts. "No." And for a moment he sounds like himself again. "We have a meeting to get to."

"You hate meetings," Erik reminds him with a small smile.

"It'd be good distraction," he says weakly.

And a good opportunity to see how Denmark reacted to people.

"You should rest."

He knows Denmark won't.

"I'll be fine," the Dane says, standing up shakily. "Besides, if it's really boring I can just sleep there."

"If you're sure," Erik murmers. He could make Denmark stay in bed, he probably should but he wants to- _needs _to know who did this. "Better get downstairs quickly if you want any breakfast."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **thanks a bunch for all the feedback :D I think the only thing you need to know is that Jan = Netherlands. Short update this time because it ends where it needs to end :3

Enjoy!

* * *

Mathias wakes up dizzy.

Dizzy and sick and _ouch._

For a few moments it's business as usual. He _always _wakes up in pain after a night out with Gil and Arthur. He probably just got in to a fight with someone. Or maybe just with the floor. That's happened before.

But then things start coming in to focus, his brain gets less fuzzy.

There's a taste in his mouth, something other than beer and he feels _wrong. _He doesn't hurt like he's been in a fight; he hurts in all the wrong places. His room is a mess, his clothes are everywhere and oh god, he's fairly sure that's blood on the floor.

That's when he starts panicking. Like _really _panicking.

What the fuck happened last night?

He stumbles in to the bathroom and pulls of the top he doesn't remember putting on. His skin is covered with bruises and _shit, _are those bite marks? He runs a hand through his hair, takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes – _someone's holding him down, fingers pressing in to his skin too hard – _he whimpers.

What the _fuck?_

He jumps at the sudden knock at the door. "Mathias, you better be up."

_Norge._

He tries to call to him (he doesn't want Erik to see him like this, he doesn't, he doesn't) he tries to say, "I'm fine." But all that comes out is the weird sort of mewling sound. It's pathetic but oh god, maybe he does want Erik to see him like this, Erik is smart he'll know what to do.

Erik lets himself in, "_What the hell_?"

Mathias turns to him, "I don't know," he whispers, half-desperately. "I don't remember what happened..."

He can see the gears in Erik's head turning as he looks him over. (There's this part of Mathias' heart that's singing because _for once _there's something other than exasperation in Norway's steady gaze and it's so _pathetic_ but he loves it.)

"Mathias," he says quietly. "Mathias, you need to calm down and tell me what you remember."

Mathias takes a few deep breaths, "I don't- I was out with Gilbert and Arthur...We were drinking and then...I don't know, Norge," he breaks off with a whimper. _Someone's voice panting in his ear – saying words he's never heard that voice say like "tight" and "yeah" and "fuckfuckfuck" - _"It all kind of gets fuzzy after that."

He remembers Germany coming down and yelling at them, remembers being told to leave and laughing at the bar staff. Then someone came and took him upstairs – _someone pressing against him-whimpering-trying to move away, or press closer, __**he doesn't know**__._

Erik looks at him, all steady and calm and Mathias loves him for that (always has). He says something about Berwald and it hits him like a tidal wave cold sweat and shakes and god, he can't breathe properly.

**_Berwald _**_holding him down._

**_Berwald's _**_voice in his ear, deep and rich and __**wrong.**_

**_Berwald _**_pressing close, gripping his hips, his wrists, his throat._

His brain blacks out for a while, goes in to panic mode.

Berwald did that.

_Berwald._

To **_him._**

His brother.

_His Berwald._

When he comes back to himself Erik is watching him closely. _Shit. _"Sverige," he manages. "I think...maybe."

_BerwaldBerwaldBerwald._

Erik starts talking again, tells him it's going to be okay, leads him out in to the main room and gets him dressed. "We need to tell the others." He says, handing him a shirt.

"_No_!" he says it automatically. _No one can know. _"P-please, Erik, don't tell the others!"

He doesn't want to deal with this. He doesn't want people to know.

He doesn't want Berwald to have to deal with this.

He's not even angry.

Is he?

_Fuck._

Erik is still talking, trying to work out who it was.

What if he does find out? What then?

He feels sick again.

He almost wretches but his stomach is empty.

"Was it Gilbert?" Norway asks and the idea is so ridiculous he almost laughs. _Gilbert. _He tried once (sort of) back during world war two, it was laughable really. Maybe this is silly. Maybe he's overreacting (he probably is) he's lived through wars, he's lived through invasions. He's a _nation. _He's stronger than this.

This kind of thing happens between them.

He's heard horror stories about Russia and the Mongols, about Russia and the Baltics.

They're okay (sort of)

"No." He snorts. "We have a meeting to get to."

What was it England used to say? Keep calm and carry on.

Erik tries to talk him out of it, gives up and tells him they'd better get a move on if he wants breakfast. At the thought of food his stomach churns but he smiles and follows Erik anyway.

_Be as normal as possible._

He manages to walk steadily along with Erik to the elevator and then down to the restaurant. There's only half an hour before the meeting so it's emptier then it usually would be, he flashes England a convincing grin and catches Jan's eye as he passes.

He's okay until he sees Sweden.

Berwald's sat at the table with Iceland and Finland, looking anywhere but at Mathias.

His stomach bottoms out, his legs turn to jelly and he stumbles slightly. Erik's watching him like a hawk, he reaches out and grabs his arm, "You okay?"

He tries to smile but it's too late. Erik's seen too much.

Norway's eyes go wide, glancing between him and Sweden. Then they narrow, chillingly, he clenches his jaw and his grip on Mathias' arm tightens. He yanks him forwards (he's surprisingly strong) reaches the table and Mathias is pretty much quaking by now and _fuck _he should be able to control himself.

But he can't.

He can't, he can't, _he can't_.

He tries to tug away from Erik but Erik holds on tight.

Erik slams his fists down on the table, "_You _did this."

The whole room falls silent.

Berwald goes pale.

Finland is frowning and Iceland looks slightly less bored than usual and there's a pounding in Mathias' head that sounds like Berwald's voice and his stomach is doing back flips and _shit _is everyone watching? It's getting harder to breath because Berwald is _right there _and _fuckfuckfuck._

Mathias tries to say something, _anything_ but his mouth won't move and then Sweden is staring at him and his knees give out and he falls, Erik and Emil are by his side in an instance and Finland's saying something, sounding alarmed and he can hear people behind him talking, coming over. _He can't fucking __**breathe.**_

He looks up and Berwald's staring.

Just staring.

It's about then that his vision goes dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **it's NYE woooo! Happy 2013 to everyone!

Thanks a bunch for all the feedback :D This ones short because I think I like it better this way, one chapter per Nordic kinda thing, next one should be longer :)

Hope you had a good 2012 and enjoy! :D

* * *

Denmark is silent when he wakes up and Emil is honestly more disturbed by that than anything else.

He presses a glass of water into the older Nordic's hands, "Drink." He says roughly. Denmark accepts it and nods in thanks, raising the glass in trembling hands. _Shit, _Emil is really awful at this. He's never been good at comfort. Or anything to do with emotion really.

It would help if someone would tell him what the hell was actually going on. From what he'd gathered Sweden had beaten up Denmark, not like _that _was anything new though. Those two are always at each others throats, but then again Erik is usually at Denmark's throat too. Tino has them separated, he and Mathias in one room, Erik in one and Berwald in another. This is something different. Erik had looked like he was about to kill Berwald. He'd never seen his brother _that _angry before.

Emil shudders as he feels a cold curl of magic emanating from the next room, from the way Mathias draws his knees up to his chest he figures he feels it too. He eyes the bruises on Mathias' face and arms. "What actually happened to you?" He asks measuredly.

Denmark looks up and smiles weakly, "Oh, you know, the usual, got into a bit of scrape."

Emil bristles at Denmark's dismissive tone. He's not a kid, he's a country. He _deserves _to know. "_Rubbish. _This was more than that, I'm not Peter, you know. You don't need to lie to me."

Mathias' smile falters, "Emil..."

"I'm not a kid. I deserve to know." Emil growls.

Mathias sighs, closes his eyes tiredly. "It's _complicated._" He says after a few beats.

Emil huffs a sigh and gives Denmark his best surly teenager look. "_Fine. _You'll tell me eventually, anyway."

"Oh, will I?" Denmark sits up and glances around, "Where's Erik?" He sounds a little shaky.

"Next door. Tino separated them, he's talking to Erik right now."

Denmark's eyes go a little wide and damn, he actually looks _scared. _He's never seen Denmark scared."Does he...Does he _know?"_

_Christ. _What actually happened? "I don't know, I guess so? Erik took him aside after we brought you up here... Tino got all pale and stuff."

At this Denmark groans, buries his face in his hands. "_Oh, god,_" he moans. "Everyone _saw._" He looks back up, runs a hand through his hair. "What did you tell them?" He's trembling, Emil moves forward to...to do _something_.

"I don't..." He says haltingly, reaching a hand out to rest on Denmark's shoulder. "Tino dealt with it."

"I need to talk to him," Denmark says, surging forward.

Emil pushes him back down, "Nej, I'm not to let you, you need to rest."

"But..."

"I'll get him for you," Emil says (Erik will be better at this because Gods, Emil has _no _idea what to say or do) he stands up and hurries out of the room. He thinks Erik is in the room to the left of him, he knocks hesitantly, "Erik?"

There's a pause and he hears Erik and Tino arguing and then Erik throws the door open, "Is Mathias okay?" He asks immediately.

"He's fine, he's asking for you," Emil says uncertainly. Erik pushes past him and heads in to other room, Tino follows him, shooting Emil a weak smile as he does so. Tino's still pretending everything's okay.

Emil follows them, he pauses briefly to look over at the door to Berwald's room before heading back into Mathias'. Erik is sitting on the empty side of the bed, one of his hands on Denmark's arm, Denmark's fingers balled in Erik's shirt sleeve. Erik is glaring at Tino who hovers beside the bed, mouth twisting unhappily.

"How can you _defend _him?" Erik spits.

"I'm not defending him! I'm just saying we don't know the full story," Tino says, calmly just as Mathias says, "Guys we shouldn't argue..."

"What _full story_?" Erik retorts, "There is _nothing _that warrants what he did!"

"Erik...Tino..."

"No, there isn't, but what _can_ we do?" Tino mumbles, tugging at his hair.

Erik sighs and Emil watches the way he strokes Denmark's arm tenderly, he hasn't seen Erik like this for a long time. "I don't know." He says finally.

"We could, you know, pretend this never happened," Mathias says quietly, both Erik and Tino stare at him.

"No," Tino says. "Erik's right. We need to punish him."

Erik nods, satisfied and Mathias makes a small noise, burrows deeper into the bed. "What do we do then?"

"Well for starters,"Emil interjects. "You can tell me what he did."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **sorry it's been such a wait! I've been busy; overrun by ideas and uni work etc. Thanks a bunch for all the feedback guys! Like I said last chapter updates will probably be pretty short from now on, hope you're not too bothered by that xD

Also Netherlands (Jan) will feature quite a bit from now on (they're (Den and Ned) my brotp, I have long and detailed headcannons for them, hehe)

* * *

"Tell me what happened."

Berwald doesn't look up. Tino is standing against the far wall, as far from Berwald as he can get. His arms are crossed defensively across his chest and his nose is wrinkled as though he's looking at something repulsive. (_he is,_ Berwald thinks, _I am._) He wants to look up and see Tino smile, or at least see something other than anger in his lover's dark eyes, he knows he won't though. Not for a long time.

He sighs and hangs his head, "Fin..."

Tino taps his foot impatiently, it's like he's dealing with Peter when the kid's being difficult. "Tell me, Berwald." He spits.

Berwald shudders, Tino can be terrifying if he wants to. He chances a look up only to feel the full heat of Tino's glare and flinches away. _I'm sorry, _he wants to say, beg, scream. _I didn't mean to_. But did he? He had wanted to hurt Denmark so _badly _but not like this, never like this...right? He runs a hand through his hair, buries his face. "Is Dan okay?" he mumbles.

From the sound of it Tino is stumped by that question. _Is Berwald such a monster to him?_ "He's...He's okay. Erik and Emil are with him." He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again his voice is devoid of any emotion. "What happened?" he repeats.

"I d'n't _know_," Berwald moans despairingly. "I d'dn't... I w's j'st so angry... It h'pp'ned so f'st..."

"And you couldn't stop yourself?"

He should have been able to, so why didn't he?

"Oh, God, Tino, m' so, so sorry," he finds himself babbling. "I d'dn't..."

"It's not me you should be apologising to!" Tino roars and Berwald finds himself trembling. Tino takes another calming breath, "This is bad, Berwald." he says grimly. "Erik is furious, so's Emil."

Berwald nods, "Th'y sh'uld be." he mumbles. He looks up to find Tino watching him, an unreadable look in his dark eyes. "What did you tell the others?"

Tino waves a dismissive hand, "Family drama, they didn't ask." He drops down in to a chair by the door and rubs at his eyes tiredly. "What are we supposed to do about this, Berwald?" He asks despairingly. "You... You _raped _him."

Berwald's stomach lurches at that word, "M' gonna be sick." he mumbles, stumbling towards the bathroom.

_He __**raped **__Mathias._

When his stomach is empty he stumbles back outside to find Finland has placed a glass of water on the bedside table for him. He nods his thanks and Tino makes a small noise of acknowledgement. He gulps it down and closes his eyes against the beginnings of a pounding headache.

"How did it even happen?" Tino whispers.

"We were fightin', he w's b'ing 'mself. I w's angry... I dunno. I ended up wit' h'm under me and..." he stops abruptly, opens his eyes to find Tino pale and staring. "I d'dn't mean t'." He finishes. "I j'st...snapped."

Tino massages his temples. "This is bad, Ber." he says softly. "Very bad."

Berwald knows. Oh, how he knows.

"If you're...If you can snap like this then I don't know if..." Berwald's heart seizes and Tino continues: "What if you snapped at me? Or Peter?"

"_No_!" Berwald cries. He wouldn't. He _couldn't. _"I could never..._never_..."

Tino cuts him off with a sharp look, "If I had asked you if you would... if you would do _that _to Denmark before this week what would you have said?"

"I..."

"Exactly," Tino stands. "What am I _supposed_ to do, Berwald? Write it off?" He actually sounds like he's genuinely unsure and Berwald can't think of anything to say to make it better. "I'm sorry, Su-san." Tino says softly, sadly as he crosses towards the door. "I just can't..." he blinks once, twice and Berwald thinks he sees the beginning of tears and he _hates _himself all the more.

"Finn..._Please_." He mumbles.

Tino shakes his head, "I'll come see you later." he says faintly before shutting the door and leaving Berwald alone.

* * *

"What are we supposed to do about this?" Tino asks in hushed tone.

Erik sighs, runs a hand through his already rumpled hair. His initial rage has calmed somewhat even though Tino is sure he still wants to tear Berwald limb from limb. "I don't know. I mean you saw Mathias, it wasn't an accident. It looked like he'd been assaulted by a Viking troop." He hisses back.

Tino looks away, "I don't think he meant it... He says he just snapped. You know Berwald, he wouldn't do anything like this - not to Denmark."

"How do we _know _that?" Erik snaps, teeth bared.

Tino exhales, lets his head fall back against the wall behind him. Mathias has fallen asleep again, thank God and after they finally told him what happened Emil had turned very green and hurried off to find his puffin. One of them should probably have gone to find him but it's been a long morning. "We don't." he says quietly. "Gods, if we were human this would be so much easier."

Erik chuckles darkly, "Would it? I mean we'd still have to deal with phoning the police, court dates, trials, prison. Plus Mathias would never speak to the police. You know that."

"True." Tino agrees. "So, what do we do?"

"First things first: we need to get out of here. Get him back home." He says, jerking his head at Denmark.

Tino nods, "Sounds like a good idea."

Erik looks down at his feet briefly, biting his lip. "And Berwald?" he asks quietly. "Do we just let him go back home? I mean aside from kicking the crap out of him what can we actually _do_?"

"I don't _know," _Tino murmurs. "I'm going to take Sealand back to mine for a while until we work this out."

Erik looks like he's about to agree when he's interrupted by a sudden pounding at the door. "Shit." He growls. "That's not Emil."

Norway is right of course and they open the door to find a very irritated looking Netherlands beside Germany, stoic as ever. "Norway, Finland." He greets politely but there's an edge to his tone that tells Tino just how impatient he is.

"Where's Denmark?" Netherlands demands, glaring at them.

Germany shushes him, "We need to get on with the conference. We need to know what's going on."

Tino sighs, this is going to be tricky.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **short one this time (well, fairly short) I actually know where I'm going with this now so the next one should be longer :D it won't be up for a while though - i have essays due for the next few weeks so i'm not going to have much time to spend on fics.

As always thanks a bunch for the feedback! unbeta'd and enjoyyy.

* * *

"We have to tell them _something_," Erik hisses as Tino bites his lip.

Germany taps his foot impatiently, it reminds Tino absurdly of being a lot younger and being scolded for doing wrong. But it's not wrong to defend your brother, is it? He glances at Erik who's bristling and matching Netherlands' steely gaze. There's no standard procedure for this so he sighs, "There's been an... " He casts around for a delicate way to say _my-husband-attacked-Denmark-and-we-have-no-fucking-clue-how-to-deal-with-this, "_An _incident._" He settles upon.

Erik snorts and Germany quirks an eyebrow, "An _incident_?" He repeats. "Would you care to elaborate, Finland?" He steps forwards, draws himself up to his full height and Tino squares his shoulders. He's trying not to be intimidated but this is peace-time, there's not much pure rage in him.

Luckily Erik always has an abundance of rage, "This is family business, Germany. We're not obliged to share anything with you." He growls.

Germany looks flummoxed but Netherlands steps forwards, "We're not leaving until you tell us what's happened." He's looking over their heads to where Mathias is curled on the bed asleep. Gods, they were just about deciding to do themselves let alone what to tell anyone else.

"Give us a minute?" Finland sighs.

Germany's gaze softens, "Ja, fine." He nods to Netherlands and they step back, Erik shuts the door.

He sighs dramatically, dropping himself in to a chair,"What the hell do we do?" He murmurs, leaning back.

Tino sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't _know_. Mathias will probably tell Jan though, right? I mean eventually. I don't think he'd be comfortable with everyone else knowing though."

"He didn't even want _us _knowing," Erik points out. "But you're right about Jan."

"I don't think I want everyone knowing either," Tino mumbles. "What if _Peter _hears?"

Erik sits forward, "Don't worry, he won't. We can worry about what to tell him later." He nods to the door.

"I'll tell them something," Tino says decisively. "I'll tell them they had a fight or something."

"Not like that's never happened before," Erik mutters just as a sleepy voice mumbles: "Tell who we had a fight?"

Erik glances at Mathias, "Jan and Germany."

Mathias brightens a little, "Jan?" Then he pales, "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

"No, no," Tino assures him. "Do _you_ want to talk to him though? I need to tell Germany something."

Mathias nods, "A fight," he whispers. "Say it was just a fight."

"And Jan?"

Mathias swallows, "Y-Yeah, he can come in."

* * *

Berwald's just contemplating a life of solitude for the rest of his exceptionally long life when his mobile rings. He frowns, it won't be Tino or Erik or Emil, they're not talking to him. It won't be his government, he has a separate phone for that so who...?

_Shit._

"P'ter," he answers gruffly. "'Thought I told ya n't ta phone me while 'm at the conference. 'M busy."

"Sorry, Papa, its just...Uncle Denmark was on tv, his country is experiencing freak weather and stuff. I just wanted to check if he was okay."

_Oh. _Berwald hadn't even considered that. "He's fine, Peter. Just got in a fight wit' someone."

"Oh, that's okay then!" Peter says brightly. "So you guys'll be home soon, right? This babysitter is _boring." _

Tino won't let him go back to Peter, Berwald understood that. What was he supposed to say him? "I - uh, Fin will be. 'M gonna be a few more day, alright?"

He can hear the frown in Peter's voice and it breaks his heart. "But how come?"

"Jus' business." Berwald murmurs, "see ya soon, Peter."

"Okay," Peter sighs. "Bye, Papa."

Berwald sighs as he hangs up and drops back on to the bed.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

* * *

He leads Germany through to the room he used to share with Berwald. Erik is watching Mathias and Jan and leaving Tino to have all the awkward conversations. He sits down awkwardly and gestures for Germany to sit opposite him. "Sorry about all this," he says quietly.

Germany sighs, "Its quite alright, Finland." He doesn't look angry anymore, Tino thinks, more concerned. It's strange that Germany's become their designated co-ordinator given that he's not even that old, Tino's glad though, Germany seems to be one of the only nations who can keep a level head. He sits forwards and steeples his hands under his chin, "It wasn't just a fight, was it?"

Tino shakes his head mutely. They'd fought before at meetings, usually Mathias would turn up with black eyes and missing teeth and Berwald would silently stew with bruised knuckles, Tino knows it won't work as an excuse.

Germany sits back, "If its something private," he says delicately. "I won't pry. I just need to know whether its something we need to be _worried _about."

"_What?_" Tino snaps and there's a curl of rage building up but then he stops. Hadn't he said as much to Berwald earlier? Berwald isn't _dangerous. _

But he is.

He'd done _that _after all.

Germany looks taken aback, "I didn't -" he begins, a little uncertain.

"No," Tino cuts him off shakily. "No, it's okay. I don't... He's not dangerous, he just got angry. Carried away. He won't hurt anyone else."

Germany nods stoically, "I didn't think he would be, I just needed to check, you understand."

Tino nods, he does understand. He understands this anyway. The situation with Berwald is a whole other thing. Germany watches as Tino runs a hand through his hair, "Should I assume," he begins cautiously, "that you and the other Nordic countries are leaving the Summit early?"

Tino nods, "If anything important comes up..."

"Yes, yes," Germany says, standing. "We'll contact you. There shouldn't be anything too important, I think it's just the usual stuff. We'll argue, resolve nothing and reconvene in Summer." He sighs exasperatedly and fixes Tino with his cool blue gaze. "If there is something that we can do to help..." He gestures oddly and Tino takes this to mean _we'll do anything we can to help _so he smiles back gratefully as Germany leaves.

When Tino gets back to Denmark's room he finds Emil hovering outside, his puffin perched on his shoulder. He's swaying slightly, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Tino's heart aches for him, it's easy to forget that Emil is still a teenager. Tino tries to smile reassuringly, "Hey."

Emil looks up at him, jaw clenched. "I want to know what we're going to do about Berwald."

_Of course you do. _"Emil..."

"We have to do _something,_" he insists, he's trying to be strong, Tino knows, but his bottom lip is trembling now. "He can't just... It's not right."

Tino sighs, "I _know_. But what _can_ we do?"

Emil drops his gaze, worrying his bottom lip. "We should tell the other Nations." He says quietly. "You know we should. They could help us with this. You only don't want to to protect Sweden."

"Emil we have to consider Denmark's feelings too, he wouldn't want - "

"Then _what?_" Emil snaps, "What will we do? Sweden doesn't deserve anonymity, he _deserves _to be punished!" And with that he turns and storms off down the corridor.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **jesus it's been a while – so sorry guys! I've actually managed to find myself a summer internship at readwave (which you should check out if you're in to writing original fiction) and i sort of fell out of the hetalia fandom but i am back now – i spent a weekend reading fics so i'm pretty into it again :D (YAY FOR REUSING ANS)

There's a time gap of a day or so between this chapter and the last lot. So most of the nords have left the conference.

short updates are the way forward.

* * *

Emil sits on the unmade bed in Denmark's spare room. He's _fuming. _They should be punishing Berwald right now, not letting him quietly get on with his life.

_It's the right thing to do_, Emil tells himself as he slips Denmark's phone out of his pocket and scrolls to find Netherlands' number. _People deserve to know._

* * *

Mathias' house is a mess and Erik is currently pretending that the horrors he's finding in the fridge are his biggest worry. Tino's hovering in the living room; Erik can hear the soft hum through the walls. He pulls out something black and green and tentacle-y and resists the urge to gag. _Slob. _He should probably be wearing a radiation suit or something.

He's just disposed of it when Peter crashes through the backdoor brandishing what looks like a rusted piece of pipe, "Uncle Mathias' garden is so cool!"

Erik glances out the window. He thinks jungle might be a better way of describing the tangled mess of grass and weeds. "I don't think Tino will be happy about you playing with that." He says, indicating the rusted metal.

Peter blinks and glances at it, "Oh, okay." He lets it clatter to the recently clean floor and Erik thinks about the consequences of strangling one's nephew. Peter skitters over to the kitchen table and clambers up to sit on it. "Can I see him yet? Is he still sleeping? We haven't seen him in _forever_."

Erik sighs, diving back into the deep unknowns of the fridge. "Give him a few more hours. Why don't you go walk Hanatamago?"

Peter sighs, "_Fine,_" And trots out calling for the dog. He and Tino are staying here for a few days until Sweden is done with the conference and moves his stuff out of their shared house. Emil's here too (mostly so he and Tino can keep an eye on him) he's sulking in one of the spare bedrooms but at least he's not inciting violence.

Erik doesn't want to think about that right now so instead he starts wondering whether Mathias has a working lawnmower. Probably not he decides. Mathias doesn't seem like one for mowing the lawn - hence the jungle in his back garden.

He's just moved on to the cupboards when Tino wanders in; at least he sits on a chair and doesn't deposit any pieces of rusted metal on the floor. "I've finished the living room," he says hollowly. "Once you're done in here we'll have officially cleaned his whole house. Then what will we do?"

Erik pulls out a box of cereal with an expiry date of 2006 and wrinkles his nose. "I suppose we'll have to actually deal with this situation."

Tino deflates and buries his face in his hands. "I have no idea what we're meant to do, Erik. What am I supposed to tell Peter? I can't keep lying to him. He thinks we left early because Mathias got into a fight but Berwald is meant to be home in a few days and what am I supposed to tell him?"

Erik straightens up and tries to find room in one of the many bin bags for the cereal. He is very much not qualified to be dealing with this situation. Not anymore. Not now that they're civilised and have governments who expect to check in with them. He's not even entirely sure what to tell _himself _let alone the kid.

* * *

Sweden groans when he hears the insistent knocking on his hotel door.

The conference has been tedious, dull and his room feels far too empty without Tino there. He's been trying to rationalise this; things with him and Fin have been going downhill for years, this would have happened eventually.

It's just.

He never thought things between him and Denmark would get this bad.

Most of the other nations are content to ignore him; they're all too wrapped up in their own dramas to be too concerned. He thinks they've bought the story about the fight – it's not like this hasn't happened before. Maybe the other nations are ignoring him because they're scared. Berwald's completely okay with that.

So who the hell is knocking at his door?

If it was room service they would have said something – if it was Germany he probably would have said something too.

He rolls to face the door, "Who is it?"

"Open the door, Sweden," comes the snarled reply.

_Shit. Netherlands._

"Wh't d'ya want, Jan?"

"I said: open the _fucking door._"

There's no way Netherlands _knows. _Unless Denmark had told him. But he wouldn't – would he? Berwald stands uncertainly.

Netherlands knocks again, "_Open_ the _fucking _door, Sweden." He repeats, louder this time.

Someone else will hear him. _What if he does know? _"Alright, alright," he mumbles, crossing the room and unlocking the door. He barely has time to open when he's being spun and shoved back against it. There's an arm across his throat and a pair of cold green eyes boring into his. "_Netherlands_!" he chokes.

"You fucking _animal_," Netherlands spits, drawing his fist back.

Berwald's mind goes blank and a fist connects with his nose.

* * *

It's only later - when Netherland's fists are bloody and Berwald has black eyes and a bloody nose - that Berwald dares to speak. He's slumped against the bed, Netherlands is leaning heavily against the wall.

"How d'dja know what h'ppned?"

Netherlands doesn't look at him. "Iceland."

_Shit._ "Ya g'nna tell anyone else?"

Netherlands looks at him for a very long time before shaking his head slowly, "I wouldn't do that to Mathias. He deserves better." He straightens and moves across to the door but before he leaves he looks back to Berwald, an unreadable look in his eyes. "I never thought you'd do something like this." and he sounds so _disappointed. "_Mathias can be a pain but-" he breaks off and shakes his head, turning and disappearing out of the room.

_It wasn't just __**him**__,_ Berwald wants to shout after him. _It wasn't just him. It was Finland and the conference and everything..._

There's a voice in his head that sounds a lot like Finland that tuts and says, _excuses, Berwald. Just excuses._

* * *

Mathias is curled on the bed.

He can hear the faint murmur of Erik and Tino's voices drifting up from the kitchen through his open bedroom door. They're talking about Sverige, about what they're meant to do with him. About how to punish him.

And Mathias feels so _guilty _about it.

Maybe it was his fault.

He had been irritating Berwald, he remembers that. Or, at least, he thinks he does. Berwald was already annoyed that night, wasn't he?

Maybe he'd _wanted _it.

He'd been sick with loneliness before, hadn't seen anyone for months. Gods, he would have taken _anything. _He just wanted a connection - just wanted someone to make him feel less alone.

He's fucked up enough when he's sober, he knows he's far worse when he's drunk.

What if Sweden's being punished for something Mathias _asked for_?

That thought alone has him biting back a wretch.

It should be _him _being punished, not Ber.

There's a knock on the door and Finland sticks his head in, fiddling nervously with the edge of his jumper. "Denmark? Oh good, you're awake. We uh - me and Norway - we think we need to talk about this. For real. When you're ready."


End file.
